Take Me Home Read Online Free

longer?”
    Holly looked at the computer screen, then at her hands, then at the opposite wall. When she turned back to her sister, tears streaked her cheeks. “I don’t know.”

A S SHE STOOD in the gallery’s back room the next morning, Claire continued her internal debate as to whether Holly wished she would leave or wanted her to stay. Shaking her head, she decided it didn’t matter—she was staying until Holly was better.
    That decision made, she brought her attention back to the painting displayed in front of her. It was by Kay Fogler, a new artist Davis was considering for an exhibit in the gallery. He had asked Claire to give him her opinion on whether the work was ready to show, but she kept putting off her answer. All the niggling doubts her ex-husband had planted in her mind undermined her ability to make a decision.
    The buzzer announced that someone had entered the gallery, and Claire heaved a sigh of relief. Wiping her damp palms on her slim black linen skirt, she went out to greet her new customer.
    Although the man had his back to her, she was sure it was Tim Arbuckle. Among the swirl of color and shape in the gallery’s main showroom, the gravity of his presence drew her eye straight to him. He was standing in front of an expansive landscape by Len Boggs, one of the gallery’s most popular artists. The vet had good taste.
    As Claire walked up behind him, he turned and said, “Morning. I thought I’d stop by and give you an update on Willow.”
    “That’s very kind, but you shouldn’t have gone to the trouble.” Claire halted several steps away so she didn’t get a crick in her neck from looking up at him. Even in her sky-high pink suede pumps, she only came to his shoulder. She liked the sense of rootedness he projected, like a grand oak tree that could withstand any storm.
    “No trouble. There was a parking space right in front of the gallery.” He pushed his hands into his jeans pockets in a gesture she was beginning to recognize. “Your whisper horse is going to be okay, but you’ll never be able to ride her. Her owner seems to have raced her while she was injured, because she’s got some fractures that didn’t heal properly. Then he quit feeding her.”
    Claire was shocked by the strange ragged sound issuing from her throat.
    Somehow Tim appeared to understand and nodded as he said, “Willow’s lucky Sharon rescued her when she did. She might not have survived too much longer. I’ve reported her owner to the racing association.”
    “Will they do anything to him?”
    “They’ll have to investigate, but it’s probable he’ll be banned from racing.”
    “I suppose I’ll have to be satisfied with that, even though it doesn’t seem nearly severe enough. He should be banned from ever coming near a horse again.”
    “You’re right, but unfortunately, the law doesn’t offer animals anywhere near the protection it should.” He ran his hand through his hair in a gesture of frustration before a smile made the corners of his eyes crease. “It’s nice to meet someone who cares so much.”
    Something about that smile touched off the tug of attraction she’d felt the day before. He seemed so comfortably uncomplicated, in his plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up to expose themuscles of a man who routinely handled large, uncooperative animals.
    She felt a yearning to run her fingers over the contours of his forearms and brush back the forelock that once again fell over his right eyebrow. Maybe it was just that he was the antithesis of Milo’s smooth sophistication and effete slimness.
    She firmly clasped her hands behind her and turned toward the Boggs landscape. “Do you enjoy Len Boggs’s work? This is one of his new paintings.”
    “Actually, I’m partial to pictures of horses. I heard you have a Julia Castillo painting here, and I’ve been meaning to come by and take a look at it.”
    Surprise flicked at Claire. The man’s speech was pure West Virginian until he spoke the